An Introvert's Guide To Making Pickled Pearl Onions For Gibsons
photo by Amanda Schuster
When you can’t order this Martini variation at a bar, here’s how to make it at home while social distancing
I often start my essays with an observation about seasonal conditions here in Brooklyn, whether it’s been hot or cold, or wet or dry, or snowy, and how the seasonal mood affects my current drink of choice.
It’s strange this time to be starting one of these in the midst of a condition that the entire world is going through at once. Almost anyone anywhere can relate to what I’ve been feeling and experiencing. What to drink in this strange time? Anything with an ABV sounds pretty good right now.
Hey, it’s always lockdown somewhere.
This is a weird time for introverts like me. “Wait, what? Anyone who follows your instagram sees you at all these parties and events. How can you possibly be an introvert?” Letting you in on a little secret: those events can be downright scary for me! I have to talk to people and make conversation! Gahhhh! Luckily at most of these things we’re all talking about the same thing—what we’re drinking. Over the years I’ve learned how to navigate those boozy waters.
But for now, the current is eerily calm. No Negroni fountains, no over-the-top garnishes, no multi-course dinners with swooshes of colorful sauce reductions smeared on my plate. However, I’m kind of enjoying the pause. I’ve needed time to regroup, and also appreciate things and people that have shaped my palate, my career, and my personality. I’ve spent so much time over the past few years chasing everything new, that I’ve sometimes left many of the things I love behind me.
Facing so much of another kind of newness and uncertainty at once, I’m finding myself returning to the familiar. Aside from conversations with dear friends and family to stay connected, I’m re-watching old TV series and movies, re-reading parts of books, and re-listening to music. These cultural touchstones have served me well in the past, and they’re providing moments of joy now in this bizarre time living in The City That Never Sleeps that suddenly scored an Ambien prescription.
In this moment of pause, big virtual cocktail hours are not my jam right now, but I do miss bars. To get a little taste of that experience at home, one of the shows I’ve been watching again, right from the beginning is Cheers. The rat-a-tat dialogue is exquisitely written, and I love the rhythm of the bar routine, which was established by Episode 4. I was utterly gobsmacked when at the end of the first season, the cold opener features a patron who tells Sam (Ted Danson) as he’s finishing his beer that he’s just landed a job as a janitor in a biology lab “...where they’re doing DNA experiments and making mutant viruses and stuff.” When he’s out the door, the whole bar springs into action, wiping down surfaces and tag-teaming the disposal of the rags. 1980s foreshadowing! See it here.
I consider Gibsons a bar drink. I make Martinis at home, but until now, I only drank Gibsons—dry Martinis with pickled onions instead of olives or a twist—in bars. As I confessed earlier, I’m an introvert by nature, but I respond well to people who start conversations with me first, as bartenders are wont to do. I cherish the ritual of chatting with someone who is stirring a Martini for me, and being able to order a Gibson at bars that keep good cocktail onions on hand, like Dear Irving and Long Island Bar have done here in the city.
Last week I craved a Gibson so badly, that I decided to make my own pickled pearl onions so I could make one at home. They turned out great, as did the drink I made with them, so I thought I would share the recipes with you.
Delicious, but I would still rather order this drink at a bar. Get well soon, world.
And if you are feeling like I do, relishing this quiet time and resisting the pressure to group socialize virtually, please know that this is a completely normal reaction for certain personality types. We are not alone. Even if we choose to be sometimes.
Pickled Pearl Onions
You can play with the spices here, using whatever is on hand, though the pepper and some sort of herb is essential, as is the vinegar. Don’t have vermouth? You can use dry sherry or dry marsala. Or just add more water.
1 tsp. whole peppercorns, black or multicolored
5 cardamom pods
5 dried allspice berries
2 dried bayleaves
3 or 4 sprigs of fresh thyme (or a tsp dried—oregano, mace or rosemary would also work)
1 cup dry vermouth
1 cup of vinegar, divided amongst a variety of styles (I used a combination of apple cider, balsamic, rice vinegar and red wine vinegar, but you can also use others like white, sherry or champagne vinegar)
1.5 cups water
½ cup sugar
Tablespoon of coarse salt
10 oz. of small, pearl onions (white or red, or a combination)
A couple of gratings of nutmeg
photo by Amanda Schuster
Wash your hands. Sterilize a jar with a tight-fitting lid for about 15 minutes in boiling water. Once that’s done, remove with tongs and set on a paper towel. Add the dry spices and thyme to the jar.
Meanwhile, in a medium saucepan, bring the liquids, sugar, and salt to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until sugar is dissolved. Add the onions and cook for one minute.
Transfer all to the jar and grate the nutmeg over. Cover tightly. Allow to cool. Give the jar a gentle shake and turn it upside down and back again a few times. Place in the fridge. They’re ready to rock next day. Store in the fridge for about a month (you can also eat the onions sliced on tacos!).
Gibson Cocktail
2 oz dry gin of choice (this drink is best with a straightforward, junipery, savory style as opposed to a fruity gin)
½ oz very dry vermouth (hey, you can use the one you made the onions with!)
Garnish: an odd number of pickled pearl onions (using an even number is bad luck, and we need all the luck we can get right now) and a bar spoon of the onion brine (optional, but recommended)
Wash your hands. In a mixing glass, stir the gin and vermouth with ice until well-chilled. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass of choice (using a rocks glass? Who cares in the zombie apocalypse?). Add as many of the onions as you wish in an odd number—one, three, five, etc. Add a little spoon of brine and stir (optional).
Sip. Savor. Know we will get through this.